


As Winter Melts into Spring

by LadyBumbleBee



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cousin Incest, F/M, Lemon, POV Jon Snow, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 07:43:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11962857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBumbleBee/pseuds/LadyBumbleBee
Summary: Jon finds himself chasing after Sansa through a forest, no sign of Winter even close to beginning. However, he can't remember how it started, he can only hear her giggles egging him on.And she is beautiful.First fic, smut I wrote a while ago. Shamelessss





	As Winter Melts into Spring

The sun had turned her hair to copper, liquid gold, and fire as it danced in a confined plait while she ran. Jon found himself chasing after her, agonizingly slow, as if he couldn’t make his leaded legs pick up the Gods-damned pace. One would think his time at the Knights Watch would allow him to outrun his pretty sister. 

Her giggles rang like soft bells and echoed off the trees in the forest as she cut deeper and deeper into the thickness. Her voice taunted him playfully. 

“Come Jon,” she provoked, “I thought you were faster than this - as fast as a giant, not a warrior outrun by a girl.” The last line spilled with more giggles from her lips. 

His legs kept pumping, much faster after her words. Gods be damned he would catch this girl, though he couldn’t remember why he was after her to begin with. 

He had lost sight of her long golden braid and Jon found himself stopped in a small clearing. His gray eyes took in his surroundings, scanning the green forest, and pausing to gaze above in the sapphire sky. He thought he saw snowflakes fall softly but they were disguised cherry petals that brought a sweet scent as they descended. 

Jon snapped back to common sense for a moment,something bubbling to the surface. ‘The White Raven,’ he thought, ‘she had seen it, Sansa had told me-‘ 

“Jon,” her voice was a stern song. “It’s no fun if you just stand there.” Sansa appeared before him in an icy silk dress with sleeves that almost touched the ground. The blades of grass swayed beneath her, reaching with want to touch the fabric. 

“Sansa,” he breathed. “Winter is here, I don’t understand.” His senses started to contradict him. His skin began to sweat, his hands could feel the wetness in the air. 

“It’s spring John,” and she smiled. “And you’re supposed to chase me.” She dashed to her left and Jon was under water again, abandoning all logic. 

Jon charged through the thicket following the chiming laughter of Sansa. He was grateful his raven curls were tied away from his face as he ducked under branches brushing his skin. He found a clearing, she was singing, lounging by a stream she was grazing her hand in. 

Her hair was loose, spilling over her shoulders passed her hips. Jon suddenly felt unwelcome as if the moment was private and he an intruder. 

Her ice eyes pierced him as she focused her gaze on Jon, as if knowing the was thinking of fleeing. A smile played with her lips and she stood slowly, elegantly, her dress and its sleeves shifted to being hung once again. The silk was unwrinkled. Jon wondered how. 

They stood for a pregnant moment, Jon took her in. The sight of Sansa Stark had always been a pleasant one even as the little girl she was before King’s Landing, before the Veil, before she showed up at the wall. 

Others noticed it as well. Wildling eyes often followed her trail along with the brothers of the Watch. He even remembered the way the brat prince gazed at her when they walked through Winterfell all those years before. And even fresher still were the eyes of Lord Bealish: like looking at a juicy mutton chop. A swift image of beating his little finger face passed through his mind. Jon had beat her former husband to the brink of death before, he was darkly certain he could do it again. 

But Jon was too frightened to even imagine what his gaze at Sansa looked like. Her dress hugged her figure outlining the curves of her hips, the smallness of her waist, the fullness of her breasts. Her hair was glistening crimson, melted copper cascading along her figure. She looked so soft yet her eyes were burning as she began to untie the ribbons at the front of her silk dress. Gods had she read his mind? What else had she heard? 

Jon reddened and looked away quickly. ‘This is wrong,’ he thought. But his cock betrayed him anyway. He was slipping into madness. 

“Sansa,” he managed to croak out. “Please-“ he wasn't even able to phrase such a request. How had this happened? How did he get here? 

But he heard the rustling of fabric, and the heavy blanketed plop of the dress meeting the grass at last. 

First his cock was a traitor, then his eyes. He gazed at her, all of her, beneath his dark lashes. He saw her soft pink mounds, her round breasts, her white skin that seemed to glow - flawless, no scars, as if Ramsay had never touched her. As if Ramsay or Joffrey or Littlefinger had never existed. Just him and her. 

And then she jumped into the glistening water. 

Jon was frozen in his tracks, painfully hard and all the more brooding. He would have stayed if he hadn’t realized she had not come back up. 

Jon flung his tunic, and everything off in an instant - small clothes and all, and met the water with a dive. 

He found her soon after, her hair a crimson jellyfish, as she went down and down and then suddenly up and out of sight. 

Jon felt panic wash over as he followed her trail, coming up to hear his breath echo off stone walls. They were in an underwater cave somehow. He let his head fall back, his hair sticking wet to his face no longer tamed by a tie.

“Now that’s a sight.” she chimed. Jon followed the voice and saw her. Sansa lounged on a rock near the edge of the pool. Jon’s lips parted and he finally decided to leave it all behind, the logic, the fighting. His face winced in pain at the sight of her, he couldn’t fight anymore. Sansa was so fucking beautiful and he intending on making her feel that way.

He sprung out of the water and quickly crushed his lips on to hers, his hands feeling her as his tongue brushed for entrance. 

“Jon,” she breathed, and it made him kiss harder. His hand grazed the curve of her hip and found her soft center. 

Jon began to make circles around her pearl. Her moans giving encouragement. “Inside,” she whispered. His fingers obliged and slipped through her lips, Gods was she wet. 

His fingers began to pump as Jon’s mouth found her breast. Sansa arched under him, moans turning into urgent breaths. She suddenly grabbed his raven locks and he let out a surprised moan, coming up to look at her. 

Her mouth agape, her red hair spilling over, and her eyes shut with eyebrows up: he felt like a fucking Green Boy. 

He stared at her, his eyes hungry charcoal. Silver blue orbs met his as she reached for his member with a soft grip and began to stroke. 

Jon’s head fell into a bow as his breath rushed out of him. “Fuck Sansa,” as she stroke to the tip and back. “I want you, I want to be inside of you.” It was desperate, a painful plea. 

Jon’s hair fell over his eyes as he watched her pleadingly. Sansa guided his cock into her entrance. 

Jon’s strong hands were like iron, palms planted on either side of her head. He was pumping into her now, his mouth spilling her name again and again. He felt mad pounding into her over and over, he wouldn’t last. Gods he wouldn’t last. 

Sansa. My Sansa. 

And then he woke just like he did from the dead, heavy breaths pouring out as he stared in horror at the ceiling, at himself. 

Still panting he turned his gaze to the window, snow falling like dust; silent, reality. 

He covered his pained face as he rolled over into the furs with a groan. The wash of shame immediately comes, and he turns hot as he realizes he had spilled in his bed.

Had he really… 

Jon glared at the stone walls of his home, angry and horrified and….

He covers his face again, rakes a hand through his hair, and watches the snow fall until morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Let me know if you would like me to continue this story. For now it is a oneshot.


End file.
